Compulsion
by Kyospike
Summary: 'I think I need to get this,' he says motioning his hand at me, 'out of my system.' Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince renowned for his pureblood status, finds himself compelled towards Hermione Granger against his better judgement. But how will he cope going against everything he has ever known? DM/HG- Rated M for upcoming sex/language


It's the first day back to Hogwarts after the summer holidays and the moment I've been dreading.

I had successfully managed to avoid the Welcoming Feast, choosing instead to hide away in the Owlrey until the festivities had finished, but now the dormitories are finally open and the only way to get to mine is by walking through the common room.

I take deep breath and steady myself; perhaps if I'm quick and keep my head down they won't even notice me.

Since when am I ever that lucky?

'You've certainly got some guts coming back Higgs' a familiar voice sneers.

I feel my cheeks begin to flush as I lift my gaze from the floor. The entire Slytherin house seems to be in the common room tonight and all of them have stopped what they are doing to watch my reaction.

Slytherin's are well known for their judgemental natures. They've smelt blood in my humiliation and, like a pack of wolves, have joined together to rip me apart.

My mouth is dry in rage and I struggle to formulate a reply whilst everyone is looking on.

'You best answer me when I speak to you' Draco Malfoy barks.

I fucking hate that twat.

The Slytherin prince has moved himself so he is now standing in front of me, blocking my way and invading my personal space threateningly. Draco Malfoy is from one the richest, most influential pureblood families in England; Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team; favourite to become Head Boy and now, if the rumours are true, swiftly climbing the ranks of the Death Eaters. I should revile him as a demi-god as the other Slytherins do, and I did – until recently.

During the summer holidays it had finally come to light, after so many years of concealment, that my little sister is a squib.

As a pureblood there is a certain amount of expectation upon you. We are supposed to be the elite of the wizarding world. The strongest and most natural magic is supposed to reside within us. We are an example of what true magic is compared to the filthy parlour tricks of the mudbloods.

For my sister to be of pure stock and incapable of magic is beyond the comprehension of the wizarding community. Instead they prefer to push the blame to my Mother, calling her a whore, saying that she must have forsaken her wedding vows and slept with a muggle- an unnatural communion to create such an abomination.

My little sister Grace is only twelve years old and one the most beautiful and kind people I know. No, she may not wield magic but it certainly doesn't make her any less of a person. We had waited expectantly the past few years for her natural powers to finally surface, at first we made excuses 'She's a slow developer, these things take time' – and when the letter from Hogwarts never arrived and my sister began attending a muggle school, my Mother and Father lied to our friends and extended family claiming instead that they had chosen for Grace to go to a Wizarding school abroad.

The uproar caused when the lie was revealed will stay with me forever. My own aunts and uncles, who had watched Grace grow up and, for twelve years previously, showered her with love and affection, now looked at her as though she was a monster. When Lucius Malfoy visited us afterwards in an attempt to sort out some damage control with my Father, he held a handkerchief up to his mouth for the entirety of his visit so not to catch my sister's 'dirtiness', he even gagged at the sight of her.

It was agreed that it was best for my Mother to 'admit' to her infidelity, that way she would save the reputation of our family and ensure that myself and my Father would not be further chastised. It would also ensure that all the elitist purebloods could continue believing they are the perfect specimens of magic wielders, incapable of producing offspring any less perfect then themselves. My Mother and Father are now divorced and my Mother has left the family home with Grace. I'll probably never see them again, a fact which leaves a burning sick feeling deep in my chest.

And Draco Malfoy is revelling in my pain.

But Malfoy is, in every respect, my superior. I know for the sake of my dwindling family reputation all I can do is bite my lip and accept the abuse.

'How do we know you're definitely a pureblood Terence? If your Mother is willing to shack up with a Muggle what else has she let fuck her? Maybe your real dad is a Troll? That would explain why you're as thick as shit.'

All of the Slytherins erupt into laughter at Draco's quip, goading him on further.

As I glare back into Malfoy's steely grey eyes I attempt to calm my breathing and continue to meld my face into a mask of indifference. I decide, silently to myself that I will get him back for his cruelty. I have no idea what I plan to do yet but I vow that I won't stop until I rip the ground from under him.


End file.
